Deep Desires
by sherlocked4eva
Summary: Mycroft Holmes knows that caring is not an advantage, but even he feels desire at times. However, Mycroft finds himself exploring them in a way he never imagined.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to yet another Sherlock fic I've been planning for a while. For anyone who has seen my other work, it is pretty clear by now I am obsessed with Mycroft! Please, please review my work, comments mean the world to me. This story will be continued.

some adult content - be warned if liable to offend.

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Mycroft pulled up his car silently and slowly opposite the building. He parked and sat completely still, narrowing his eyes as his studied the front door. He was not used to driving himself around, it felt strange having to worry about matters like parking the car. He was used to a chauffeur zooming away, or waiting patiently for him outside whilst he concluded his business. But not tonight. Mycroft was certain that nobody could know about the trip he was making tonight. Even Anthea, who probably knew more about Mycroft than anybody could not know what he was doing. For Mycroft, tonight was a secret he was intent on burying very deep.

He sat patiently for fifteen minutes to be absolutely sure nobody had followed him. Mycroft was not normally prone to unnecessary paranoia, but he knew he could not relax and enter the building until he was entirely happy that everything was to remain private. He had made all the arrangements carefully and discreetly. He had researched a venue which promised total privacy. He had diligently ensured that any evidence of him looking up the place or making arrangements to visit were not to be found. He had waited until all his staff had gone home and slipped out of the office via a different exit to avoid being spotted. When Mycroft decided to do something, he always did it thoroughly.

Finally satisfied that he was utterly alone and unobserved, Mycroft left his car and walked noiselessly over to the front door. From the outside it looked like nothing more than a house, a building which would attract the attention of nobody, unless they had chosen to find it. Mycroft rang the doorbell and was relieved to hear instant, quick footsteps. After all his careful planning, the last thing he wanted was to be seen on the doorstep.

The door opened a few inches, just enough for Mycroft to see a pair of heavily made- up eyes staring at him. The eyes quickly darted up and down, scrutinising him, clearly making a judgement regarding whether he was allowed to enter. Whatever the judging criteria was, Mycroft evidently passed because the door suddenly opened enough to allow him in. He entered the building, a sense of relief flowing over him as the door shut behind him. He was safe and completely hidden from any passerby.

"Good evening, sir," came a silky voice, and Mycroft turned to see properly the person who had answered the door. It was a woman, approximately forty years old, but extremely beautiful and with a stunning body. She wore a tight-fitting tailored skirt suit, the jacket plunging into a low v-neck which showed off her ample cleavage. The skirt was also short and tight, her endless slim legs clad in sheer black tights. She wore painfully high black stilettos and her blonde hair cascaded around her face in large bouncy waves. Her make-up was heavy, but still glamorous and appealing. She smiled mysteriously and gestured to Mycroft to follow her down a short corridor.

Mycroft was led into a small but luxurious sitting room where he sat down on a black leather sofa, covered in a crimson velvet throw. In front of the sofa stood a gleaming glass coffee table, upon which stood only a single drinking glass. The woman who had answered the door opened a small cupboard which, upon opening, was actually a small fridge. She removed a bottle from it and looked directly at Mycroft.

"Champagne, sir?" She enquired.

"Thank you," Mycroft replied.

With another smile, the woman effortlessly uncorked the bottle and filled Mycroft's glass to the brim. Once the bubbles had died down, she topped it up fully before plunging the rest of the bottle into a waiting ice bucket. Mycroft sipped the drink, grateful to finally relax after hours of serrupticious planning.

"Have you visited us before, sir?" The woman asked.

Mycroft shook his head.

"Then let me explain what you need to do."

The woman leant across to reach a book shelf, from which she removed a thick purple padded book. She placed the book next to Mycroft's champagne glass, in addition to some loose pieces of pink notepaper which she had taken out of her pocket. The final touch was a sparkling silver pen.

"Please look through the portfolio sir," the woman explained, "you'll see a profile of all our girls in there. Take as much time as you need, there is no hurry. When you have found the one that meets your requirements, simply ring the bell on the wall and I'll return and prepare everything for you."

She gestured a manicured hand towards the notepaper.

"If you have any special requests or requirements, you can let me know when I return, or write it down and hand the instructions to me if you find that preferable."

The woman folded her hands neatly over her flat stomach.

"Is there anything else you need at the moment, sir?" She asked.

Mycroft shook his head. The woman nodded politely.

"Take as long as you need, sir. And please help yourself to more champagne."

With a final flash of her glittering smile, the woman turned on her heels and left Mycroft alone.

Mycroft refilled his nearly empty glass and picked up the book in his hands. It was very rare that he found himself doing something like this. He had decided many years ago that someone in his position could not afford relationships. They made a man weak, exposed his vulnerabilities, left his susceptible to sentiment and pity. His world was no place to be with a romantic partner in tow.

But Mycroft was only human, and whilst romance and love had long since faded in his memory, every so often, the dull and pounding ache of lust and desire found itself throbbing deep within his body. Usually hard work and utter focus on his job was enough to distinguish these desires; Mycroft's work was so all-encompassing that any feelings for anything else were usually quickly extinguished in the day-to-day frenzy of government work. If it still persevered, he was usually able to give himself some relief in the privacy of his own home. But on just a few occasions, the burning need had just been too strong to ignore. Mycroft had tried to put it from his mind, but the need was lingering in the back of his mind constantly. Finally he had given in; it had, after all, been a few years since he had last needed a more physical form of release. And that was how he had found himself here, in a highly discreet and upmarket parlour which promised to meet any requirement in return for a handsome payment. Mycroft's needs however were relatively simple and it was the privacy he was prepared to pay for. One hint to anybody as to what he was up to would destroy his reputation. Mycroft was not naive and was fully aware that it was likely that half of the government officials he met on a daily basis got up to the same thing outside the office. But the difference was that nobody on earth would ever believe that the icy and emotionless Mycroft Holmes actually ever succumbed to such human weakness. Mycroft knew he would never recover from a revelation of that magnitude.

Mycroft flicked through the book, listless perusing the various girls available to him. He didn't really go for a particular type, all he was concerned about was finding one that was willing to meet his special requirement. He was half way through the book when he spotted one, an attractive petite brunette whose list of services included exactly what Mycroft was after. Nodding to himself, Mycroft drained the remainder of his champagne and picked up the notepaper and pen, writing a single word on in in his elegant sloping handwriting. Leaning across to the wall, Mycroft rang the bell. Seconds later, the clicking of stiletto heels told him that his hostess was returning.

"You have chosen, sir?" The woman asked as she re-entered the room.

Mycroft indicated with his eyes the book which was lying open to display the girl of his choice. Without a word, he handed the woman the slip of notepaper upon which his request was written. She glanced down at it, but as Mycroft expected, did not react it any way. In comparison with what some people doubtlessly asked for, his requirements were extremely simple.

"One moment, please," she said before leaving the room again. Mycroft heard a few hushed whispers before she returned again so that the financial aspect of the arrangement could be finalised. Mycroft naturally paid in cash, handing over a small wedge of banknotes to the woman who quickly checked that all was in order. Once the cash had been put aside, she gestured to Mycroft to follow her out of the room.

"All will be ready for you now, sir," she said, her voice even sweeter and more seductive now that the appropriate money had been paid.

Mycroft was led upstairs, past five different doors before he was stopped outside one. The woman indicated to Mycroft to enter.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening," she purred before leaving him alone, returning to the stairs.

Mycroft took a deep breath and entered the room. It was softly lit and warm, the delicate smell of fragrance lingering in the air. The furnishing and decor of the room looked to be dark pink, the dimmed lighting creating a warm and intense ambience. Mycroft's stomach clenched as he stepped further into the room and saw the girl he had requested waiting for him. She was a lean and delicate looking beauty, her nude body laid out on the bed, spread flat waiting for Mycroft's touch. Mycroft could feel the desire that had been an irritating distraction over the part few weeks begin to grow pleasantly through his limbs as he gazed with satisfaction at the girl waiting for him. The hostess had done her job well, and passed on his single request as required.

Blindfolded.

Mycroft's girl of choice wore a black velvet blindfold, her hair cascading around it. It amused Mycroft slightly to think that the women who worked here assumed his request was in-line with some form of erotic kink. In reality, it was simply another reassurance for Mycroft that nobody could ever identify him as having been a client at this place.

The girl on the bed smiled in his direction, unable to see his face but clearly sensing where he was.

"Are you ready for me?" She asked in a teasing voice, suggestively raising one of her legs slightly in a manner of invitation.

Mycroft did not need teasing or seducing, his needs here were ones of relief and release. His body shuddered slightly as he finally lay his hands upon the girl, arousal completely engulfing him as he ran his hands over her naked body. It had been such a long, long time, to feel warm and responsive flesh beneath his fingers, it was completely intoxicating. The girl tried to reciprocate and touch his body in return but Mycroft gently pushed her away. This encounter was about satisfying a basic need, nothing more.

Mycroft did not waste any time and within minutes was releasing himself and moving between the girl's legs. She moaned responsively as he entered her, raising her hips up to allow him to push deeper, her warm little body providing what he so desperately needed. Mycroft closed his eyes and concentrated his mind on every tiny sensation running through the fibres of his body; he wanted to remember this so for a long time in the future he could use it to keep his self-control in check. His breathing became heavier as he began to move faster, thrusting himself in and out of the girl, her little whimpers and moans of pleasure urging him on. He knew he could not hold on much longer and with one final push he fell forward onto her, his vision going black for a split second as wave upon wave of climax washed over him. He lay quite still on top of the girl as he breathed through it, feeling his racing heart beginning to slow and his hot skin starting to cool.

It was another few minutes before Mycroft finally climbed off her and clambered off the bed, his legs wobbling slightly as he briskly tidied himself up and rearranged his clothing. The girl had served her purpose well, Mycroft felt a sense of relaxation and physical relief that he had not experienced in some time. His body, which just occasionally betrayed him with lustful needs, had got what it required. Now it was over, Mycroft felt himself again, once more the efficient professional who was distracted by nothing.

Mycroft looked over at the girl on the bed who was waiting patiently in case he required her services again. Leaving a situation like this was always awkward; to try and praise the liaison sounded odd. To thank the girl for allowing him access to her body sounded worse. Mycroft decided to opt for the simplest solution and say nothing at all. The arrangement was purely financial from her point of view, there was no need to try and pretend it was not with a few words of parting.

Without a final backward glance, Mycroft walked to the bedroom door and left the room, exiting into the communal landing where he had been taken previously. His timing could not have been worse. Mycroft left the bedroom and closed the door just as a person also exited from the room opposite. Mycroft did not even have time to react, he was face to face with the woman who had been inhabiting the bedroom opposite the one he had been in. Mycroft was conscious of not allowing his face to betray what he was feeling, but a sense of doom and dread was creeping over him steadily as he locked eyes with the brazen and wickedly grinning face which was eyeing him slyly.

"Well, well," said Irene Adler, "they say it's always the quiet ones, don't they?"


	2. Chapter 2

Hello all.

a short update for this story. I was planning quite an epic second chapter, but decided to do this mini one instead to avoid an almighty chapter which could run for thousands of words! Even though it is small, would love any comments if you have them.

enjoy!

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Mycroft was shaking with rage as he returned to his car. The irony of the situation was almost funny, if it were happening to another person and not himself. After all his careful planning, his discretion, his laboured efforts to keep everything about this evening a secret. Not only had he failed, but of all the people to stumble upon him, it happened to be that common, nasty little slut Irene Adler, a woman towards which Mycroft felt nothing other than contempt. He was grudgingly able to respect her resourcefulness and intelligence; she possessed a ruthless streak which he could recognise very much in himself. But in Mycroft's opinion, she did not fully use the intellect which she so obviously possessed. She relied on that most basic and least respected of talents to make her way in life - sex. And that was why Mycroft disliked her so much. She had all the talent and potential to look after herself and wrap others around her little finger without resorting to such debase methods. And yet she did, either because it was easier or because she had yet to realise alternative solutions to her problems. Whatever the reasoning, Mycroft had little regard for anyone who relied upon their body and their looks to get by.

Mycroft was not scared of Irene Adler. He felt confident that in any battle of wits, he could out-smart her and beat her hands down if necessary. Unlike Irene, Mycroft was able to plunge the depths of his full intellectual ability, and when he truly put his brilliant mind to something, the outcome was usually highly impressive. However, this did not alter the fact that Mycroft was worried. He calculated that Irene would be extremely keen to deploy her powerful little piece of knowledge about him, but in what capacity he was unsure. Blackmail seemed the most obvious choice, but Mycroft was not convinced Irene would opt for such a predictable route. He almost hoped this would be the approach that she chose. Blackmailers were relatively easy to deal with, Mycroft having been called to tackle a number of blackmailers in the past who had threatened key government officials with highly embarrassing secrets which would destroy reputations if revealed. It was also worth remembering that the aim of a blackmailer was to obtain money, and Mycroft was not sure that cash was the only thing that Irene would be after. She probably did need money, but with such a tantalising piece of bargaining power to play with, it was probable she would be after something more substantial than simple cash.

Mycroft felt very solemn as he arrived home, a grim determination settling in his mood. Whatever Irene Adler had planned, she had better be careful. Mycroft would not tolerate being threatened or taunted, not least by a woman who was nothing more than a cheap whore. If she was intending to come up against Mycroft Holmes, she had better be aware of exactly what she was facing.

Mycroft spent much of the next day in the office preoccupied, unable to put his ponderings out of his mind. His instincts told him that if Irene was going to act, she would do it soon. She did not strike him as the type of woman who would patiently wait until a good time to use her knowledge. She was probably positively itching to act, to slap Mycroft in the face with what she had seen and demand an as yet unknown price from him.

Anthea noticed Mycroft's distracted and gloomy mood, and wondered what was troubling him. But she knew from experience not to ask. If Mycroft wished to discuss or divulge something, he would do it without prompting. More often than not, he would just keep everything to himself. Anthea wished he would occasionally open up to her more and realise that she could possibly help him beyond the confines of work. She knew that he trusted her absolutely, but that trust had never extended towards discussing anything of a personal nature. Despite his cold and emotionless manner, Anthea was actually very fond of Mycroft and secretly hated to ever see him distressed or unhappy.

Anthea purposely left Mycroft alone to brood in private until shortly after lunch when she had no choice but to disturbed him. She knocked quietly on his office door and entered, walking over to the desk where he sat typing studiously.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir," she said cautiously, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought, "but I've had a late request for an appointment with you from a lady over the telephone. She insists she wants to see you today, but I told her that was impossible. However, she claims it is urgent and if I tell you her name, you'll be sure to fit her in at some point today for a meeting".

Mycroft's brain completely switched off from the report he was typing and he turned to Anthea. This sounded like the signal he had been anticipating.

"What is her name, please?" He asked, hoping he sounded casual and fairly disinterested. In reality, he wanted to know very much exactly who had called him.

Anthea gave a short, nervous laugh.

"Well sir," she began, "the caller gave me her name, but it is slightly odd. I did double check it, but I think I must have misheard".

"What is it?" Mycroft asked.

"Er," Anthea hesitated, looking at the paper in her hand, "the name I wrote down was Miss Whip?"

Anthea gave Mycroft a questioning look.

"I'm sure that can't be right, but maybe you recognise it".

Mycroft knew nobody of that name, but there could be no doubt who the mystery female caller was. Mycroft nodded grimly to himself. How amusing, he thought, it looks like the games and teasing have begun already.

Mycroft gave Anthea a tight, polite little smile.

"Thank you Anthea," he said stiffly, "as it happens I know exactly who that is. Could you call her back and confirm that I will see her at 6pm?"

Anthea looked astonished, both at Mycroft's claim to recognise the odd name and his willingness to organise a meeting with only hours to spare.

"Of course sir", she said, leaving the room with a puzzled glance at Mycroft.

Mycroft watched her leave before leaning back in his chair, a grim determination settling in his stomach. If Irene Adler wanted to play games, she had chosen a formidable opponent.


End file.
